


I Didn’t Realize You're An Artist

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood As Lube, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Boyking Sam, Branding, Collars, Dark, Demon Dean Winchester, Dom Sam Winchester, Exhibitionism, F/M, Gags, Handcuffs, Knifeplay, M/M, Multi, Skinning, Stockholm Syndrome, Sub Abaddon, Sub Ruby (Supernatural), Switch Abaddon, Switch Dean Winchester, Torture, Voyeurism, disembowling, though mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 19:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11363970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Abaddon killed Dean but when he wakes up as a demon he gets Sam to drink his blood so they can take over hell and exact revenge. This is what happens when Dean finally gets his hands on Abaddon.  Dark Fic! Read Warnings!!





	I Didn’t Realize You're An Artist

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ WARNINGS! If I somehow forgot something (or tagged something I shouldn’t have), I am so sorry and please let me know!
> 
> I really loved writing this. It was cathartic and this fic kinda means a lot to me. I’m a little sad to release it out into the world and be done with it. Also, some how I think I included feels in my 8000+ words of torture porn so...sorry? I did my best to avoid plot though! lol

Abaddon hangs from the ceiling by her wrists where silver demon cuffs sparkle, her feet just barely touch the floor. She glares at her captors over the ball gag between her teeth keeping her from mouthing off.

“Nice catch, Dean,” Sam says as he kisses Dean’s neck, watching the woman. “Now what are you going to do with her?”

Dean leans his bare back into Sam’s chest and watches his captive with hooded eyes, resting his head against Sam’s shoulder. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

Abaddon mumbles something sharp and angry through the gag and the brothers completely ignore her.

Sam presses his lips to Dean’s neck again before Dean pulls away.

Dean approaches Abaddon. “I think we’ll have to get you out of that wrapping first.” Dean pulls out the demon blade and starts cutting through the redheads clothing. Abaddon makes a few comments when the blade gets close to her skin. Between the sharpness of the blade and his demon strength, even the leather jacket is in ribbons in moments.

Dean circles her, trailing the knife over her skin. He knows she’s not giving him the satisfaction of squirming or fighting the restraints. He lets the tip of the blade slide down her side and over the curve of her ass. He presses just hard enough for her to feel the sharpness when he reaches her other hip, trailing down her outer thigh not yet drawing blood. He taps the point against his lip. Abaddon sighs dramatically through her nose, rolling her eyes. Before she can mutter anything, Dean lashes out in two quick strikes. They hit each of her nipples drawing just a hint of blood but it’s the orange crackle from the anti demon properties of the blade that Dean knows hurts more. Abaddon twitches with it. Her jaw tenses and her glare darkens but Dean doesn’t miss the subtle press of her thighs.

“Oh, sweetheart, we’re just getting warmed up,” Dean croons still circling. Dean grabs a fist full of her hair and whispers roughly in her ear. “You told me one time you’d peel off my tattoo and blow smoke up my ass. I guess I get to do it to you first.” He shoves her head away. “Have to give you the tattoo though,” he says casually.

Dean goes to the collection of brands he set in the fire earlier. He's been preparing this since he woke up with black eyes after her knife went through his heart. It’s a collection of curved lines and two different length straight ones. He grabs the longest of the later first.

As Dean approaches Abaddon he holds the brand out for her to see and feel the heat. He let’s it warm the skin on her cheek till it’s uncomfortably hot. He can see she’s fighting with herself not to pull away. “I don’t know how to tattoo, but fire. Well, I’m pretty well acquainted with that.” He circles around and lowers the white hot steel to just between her shoulder blades and then presses in.

Abaddon grunts in pain through the gag in her mouth but manages to not show anything else. Dean lets the pain fade, the sharp icy burn dull to a throbbing ache before he grabs the next one.

Each successive mark fills in the symbol more. Each time Abaddon can hide less and less of the pain. Despite being a big bad evil, she’s still no match for Dean’s skill. He knows when to give her a break let her think she is building up a reserve only to be hit by the pain anew. The cuffs don’t let her heal as quickly. When Dean has only one line left to complete the mark, Abaddon is panting and sweating in pain, her screams have gone hoarse.

Dean brushes her thick red hair out of her face almost gently. “It’s almost over. I shouldn’t be surprised but you’ve handled it so well.” He rubs a thumb against her cheekbone and then her lower lip. He grabs the last brand and presses it to Abaddon’s skin. She writhes weakly, her hands curled in fists, a pathetic moan escaping past the gag.

Dean steps back to admire his handy work. Her whole upper back is red and angry, the anti possession symbol is raised in welts centered perfectly between her shoulders. “I did all that work to put it there but now I have to peel it off.” He tries to sound regretful but he can’t hide the delight in his voice. “Oh and this knife will hurt even more,” he reminds her.

He sets the edge of the knife to her skin and pushes in slow, down to the muscle. He carves along a perfect circle around the newly made symbol. “This was always my favorite part. The cutting,” he says over the crackle of the blade and Abaddon’s hisses and pants. “I’ve always been good with knives and this just lets me really shine.” Once he’s back to where he started, he digs the point of the blade into her skin, catching it between the metal and the pad of his thumb, slippery with blood. He peels it back, keeping pressure along the blade to help pull flesh from muscle.

Abaddon screams and screams, barely drawing breath. Blood pours down her back following the channel of her spine.

“Purr, kitten purr,” Dean whispers.

Finally, the disk of skin separates. Dean shows it to Abaddon. “Peeled right off,” he says matter of factly grinning. He flings the mangled scrap of flesh in the fire. The smell is familiar to Dean and oddly comforting.

“You know what comes next right?”

Defiance sparks in her eyes and Dean grins. “That’s my girl.”

Sam, who had been standing to the side watching, still and silent, shifts finally. Dean’s eyes snap to his brother, his king, instantly. “Any requests, Sammy?”

Sam shakes his head. “I just want to watch you work.”

Dean nods and turns his attention back to Abaddon. He crowds up behind her, grabbing her hips and blows across the open wound on her back. “How about you? Any requests?”

Abaddon stays silent.

“Alright, dealer’s choice.” Dean reaches between them to undo his pants and pull out his cock. It’s been hard since he first got her to scream and he’s long over the guilt of taking pleasure in someone else's pain.

He runs his fingers down the blood on her back and drags down between her ass cheeks. “No lube at all doesn’t work well,” he growls, gathering more blood and pushing two fingers into her ass. He slides in and out a few times, then lines his cock up. He pushes in slowly and Abaddon makes a few helpless sounds. “Fuck, so tight,” he says. He thrusts his hips a few times experimentally. She’s tight and hot. There’s not enough lubricant but Dean doesn’t really care. He sets a brutal pace, hard and fast grunting as he fucks into her.

“Yeah, fuck that’s good.” He snakes a hand around her waist, reaching between Abaddon’s legs. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I give as good as I get.”

Her pussy is wet, slick coating the tops of her thighs. He finds the hard swollen nub in her folds and presses down, rubbing in tight circles.

Her hips writhe helplessly, whether seeking escape or more Dean’s not sure, either way it only turns him on more.

“Come on, Abaddon, give it up for me.”

She moans through the gag, her fists clenching tight enough her nails draw blood.

“You're so wet,” he taunts, still ruthlessly pumping into her. “You've been enjoying this just as much as I have.”

Her spine goes rigid and Dean can feel the muscles in her thighs tense and quiver. Her moans turn into a high whine as her body clenches around him. “That's it sweetheart,” Dean praises. He slows his fingers, till Abaddon goes weak. “Ah, good girl, but I’m still not done with you yet.”

The room echoes with the sound of flesh on flesh, Dean low grunts and the pathetic whimpers from Abaddon she doesn’t have the strength to suppress anymore. It’s not long before Dean stills, buried to the hilt, and lets out a harsh sigh.

He pulls out and smacks her ass almost playfully. “Man, I haven’t had that much fun in years.”

Dean grimaces, realizing his comment could be taken as an insult to his king. He sneaks a peak at Sam.

Sam is walking toward him, smiling, the erection tenting the front of his pants, obvious. “So you enjoyed your new toy?” Sam asks.

Dean nods, mouth gone dry. Sam was always hot, but the power he emanates now calls to the darkness in Dean.

Sam cups Dean’s face, brushing his thumb over Dean’s cheek bone, his long fingers curling around the back of his neck. His other hand slips around Dean’s waist and pulls him close. Dean has to look up to keep contact, caught in Sam’s ever shifting eyes like prey.

“Watching you with her...it’s amazing, beautiful, an art.” Sam lowers his head to kiss Dean, tender and sweet but building. Sam pulls back. “So fucking hot,” Sam whispers, applying just a little bit of pressure to Dean’s shoulder and waist to urge him to his knees.

Dean goes willingly. his knees hitting the ground hard enough to bruise if he were still human. He leans against Sam’s thigh, breathing in the scent of his arousal through the slacks. He reaches eagerly for the opening, looking up at his king for permission.

Sam nods, running his fingers absently through Dean’s hair.

Dean undoes Sam’s pants and pulls his cock out. It’s hot and thick in his hand, fingers barely able to touch around it. He strokes a few times just marveling. Of course he’s seen it but every time feels like a gift. He finally wraps his lips around it and Dean sighs out his nose as Sam moans above him.

“Fuck, Dean. That mouth is so perfect.” Sam brushes the hair off Dean’s forehead as Dean looks up. He swirls his tongue, watching for a reaction. Sam’s hips thrust involuntarily, his eyes half closing.

Dean moans, grabbing Sam’s hips and urging him to fuck his mouth. Sam does, gripping the longer hair on the top of Dean’s head to move him how he wants him. He starts slow, watching his cock slide spit slicked over Dean’s lips and hitting the back of his brother’s throat. Dean shifts and swallows so each thrust is deeper till Dean’s nose is buried in the hair at the base of Sam’s cock. Sam holds Dean there, Dean’s throat working around his cock, eyes watering. It’s a good thing demons don’t need to breathe.

Eventually he pulls out only to slam back in. Dean gags a little on reflex before he gets it under control. Sam starts fucking his throat for real. Dean keeps his eyes locked on his brother's face. His expression is harsh, his eyes nearly black. Not the demon black they go when he uses his power but the human black of lust. Dean’s sure this would scare him if he was still human, his brother lost to the dark side. But what was the light side? Guilt, remorse, pain? Fuck that. He'll take pleasure and lust over that any day of the week.

Dean’s cock is hard again, aching and dripping between his thighs. Dean whines as Sam gets close. He can see it in his face.

Sam notices. “Touch yourself,” Sam commands.

Dean moans, grateful as he wraps a hand around his cock, stroking fast. He knows his orgasms not far away. His moans get higher. Sam watches, grunting on every thrust. Sam’s cock is still pounding his throat when Dean closes his eyes and comes all over his hand, his pants, and the floor, a muffled keening moan escaping him.

Sam’s hips pick up pace and then suddenly still. “Yes, Dean,” Sam groans long and low, shooting down Dean’s throat in hot pulses. He pulls out before he finishes, adding a few opaque spurts of come to Dean’s spit covered chin and face.

Sam smiles down admiring his handy work as Dean licks the come off his lips. “Fuck, Dean, what did I do to deserve you?”

Dean stands gracefully and grins. “Something about taking over hell,” he answers.

Sam laughs. “Yeah, something like that.”

They walk toward the door. Dean pauses. “Oh, almost forgot.” He goes the a leaver on the wall and hits it. The chain holding Abaddon suspended releases and she falls to the ground. “I’ll be back in a bit.” He calls over his shoulder as they leave.

***

Abaddon lays on the ground, not sleeping but not fully conscious. She can feel the wound on her back healing steadily. It won’t be long before it is just a nasty scar and eventually even that will fade and she’ll have her creamy skinned meat suit back. She’s gotten used to this one and doesn’t particularly like the idea of getting a new one.

When she has the strength to stand, she does. She gets the gag out of her mouth and throws it across the room. She examines her surroundings, taking in her options. She’s naked, chained with demon cuffs to the ceiling in a stone room, obviously some kind of torture chamber. She’s seen enough of them to recognize one. There is only one solid door and no windows, or even guards to manipulate. It’s not promising but still she doesn’t give up hope. She runs through possible scenarios. If she could get out of the damn cuffs, things would be so much easier. She decides to watch for a key or something to pick it with next time Dean comes in. She shudders and hates that she’s excited to find out what he has planned for their next session.

She paces the room. The chain doesn’t let her get close to anything but she can see various knives, along with salt, and probably holy water. These won’t kill her, or even hurt that much. Even Dean’s favorite knife they both know won’t kill her. It does hurt like a bitch though. She doesn’t have to wait long.

Dean comes in, alone this time.

“Sam decided you didn’t need babysitting this time?” she asks, sounding more confident than she feels. She knows Dean will have her screaming in no time, but she won’t beg, no matter what he does.

Dean just smiles and goes to the wall. There is a crank beneath the lever that released the chain and as he turns it her leash gets shorter.

“Don’t want to play fair I see,” she says as her arms get pulled over her head. “Afraid you can’t win in a fair fight?”

Dean approaches her once she’s mostly off the floor again, looking over her body and examining the wound on her back. “I did win in a fair fight, Abaddon,” he answer absently, brushing calloused fingers over the raw skin. “You killed me when I was a human. But when we were both demons… well I decided to play with you instead. You were such a pain in my ass, I figured I’d return the favor.”

Abaddon ignored the pain his fingers bring on and the excitement she feels at his touch, and rolls her eyes at the pun.

“Though...if you hadn’t killed me, I wouldn’t have turned into a demon, Sam wouldn’t have gone full darkside. We wouldn’t have had to take over hell just to get payback.” Dean shrugs. “I really should be thanking you.”

“Yeah? You can thank me by getting me out of these cuffs and getting on your knees to beg for forgiveness. When I’m queen, I’ll be lenient.”

Dean’s hand comes out of nowhere, crashing across her face hard. Pain and blood fill her mouth. She barely has time to register it before another blow lands, higher, splitting the skin below her eye with the force.

Dean’s hands grip her face and tilt it up to meet his black eyes, full demon power radiating from him “Sam rules Hell. Anybody that even hints otherwise is given a slow painful death. Now, you didn’t know that, and I really want to keep you as a pet. So this is your one and only warning. Am I making myself clear?” The fanatic gleam in his eye says more than all his demon powers could.

“Crystal,” she says acidly, spitting blood, though Abaddon almost respects the loyalty Sam is able to inspire in his brother.

“Good.” Dean drops his hand and smirks. “Now, back to the fun part.”

He spins the demon knife in his hand with effortless grace. “I mentioned I liked knives, right?” Dean wanders to the other side of the room and picks up a stool. He brings it back and sets it down next to her. He sits, bow legs spread on either side of her and sets the blade on the skin of her hip. “I like how precise they are. I can make a cut, as deep or as shallow as I want.”

He illustrates his point by slowly drawing one short shallow cut below her waist and another deeper one over her hip.

Abaddon ignores the first cut and hisses at the second. “Are you going to monologue the whole time? Because I could use some ear plugs.”

“I don’t mind a little sass. Makes things fun. But I could just gag you again, if it’s easier.” It’s a genuine offer, but the subtle threat is obvious.

“I’ll pass,” she mutters.

Dean shrugs and goes back to work. He starts on her torso, carving a series of successively deeper cuts that follow her rib lines. “You’ve tortured people before. Did you have a favorite method?”

Abaddon grunts when Dean pauses between slices. “I always found slow disemboweling got the job done.” She tries to hide the grimace as Dean starts the next line. “Nothing like showing someone their own entrails to get them squealing their darkest secrets. Don’t you agree?”

Abaddon glances down to check Dean’s expression. He’s focused but he looks almost disappointed with her answer. “If you’re just looking to make them talk, that works.”

“You’re not looking for information here, are you Dean?”

He reaches her lowest rib and cuts nearly to the bone. Blood runs down her side. The blade can hurt her demon form and the pain worse than the damage to her meat suit. She screams.

Dean looks up at her, arousal already darkening his green eyes. Just the look is enough the heat her core. “Nope,” he answers popping the p.

He spends hours carving into her. When he is finished on one side, he moves the stool and repeats the pattern on the other. As with the previous time, Abaddon hates that Dean seems to know her exact limits. A single dose of sharp pain can usually be resisted. But constant dull aches wear her down so that when a killing blow does come she can’t help but scream. She knows it’s what Dean’s looking for, where he finds his release. Part of her wants to bite her own tongue off instead of give him the satisfaction but another growing part wants to give him whatever he desires.

Abaddon wonders idly during a short break in pain, if it is a power he inherited as a demon. He was a compelling human, everyone he met loved him enough to die for him. Many of them had. Did it give him some sort of mind control as a demon? If it did, was he even aware of it?

Another drag of the knife along her shoulder blade distracts her from all thought.

Abaddon lost track of the number of cuts by the time he was finished.

“It suits you, you know,” Dean says quietly as he circles her surveying his work. “Do you wanna see?”

She nods wearily, having screamed herself hoarse.

Dean brings a tall full length mirror into view. Cuts criss cross her pale skin, paler now with blood loss. The lines follow the natural curves and flow of her body. Even the blood that is leaking from the wounds, flows gracefully over her skin, complementing the abstract design carved into her skin. It’s really almost beautiful.

Dean sees the appreciation in her eyes. “I’m gonna fuck you now. I want you to see how I can make you feel. Pain and pleasure.”

He stands behind her and runs his hands up her side. He cups her breasts, thumbing her nipples and pinching them against his index finger. Abaddon watches in the mirror as her body arches helplessly into his hands, heedless of the cuts and blood in the way.

Dean’s fingers clamp down on her nipples painfully hard and Abaddon moans, her whole lower body undulating with the waves of pleasure rocking through her. 

Dean releases her. “See how good it is,” he says, meeting her eyes in the mirror. He runs his tongue along her shoulder up her neck gathering sweat and blood. His hands glide over her body till they comb through the short hair above her pussy.

Abaddon bucks her hips into his hands, aching for him to touch her, fill her. She is past the point of caring for the moment that she should be pissed off.

“So eager,” Dean taunts in her ear but he slides his fingers through her slick swollen folds. “So wet.” He pushes two fingers into her, curling up to hit that sweet spot.

Abaddon gasps at the feeling, tight and sharp but so good. “Should I fuck your pussy this time? Make you come all over my cock?”

Abaddon moans, as Dean’s fingers keep working inside her, her hips rocking with his motions. “I didn’t hear you. You gotta ask, sweetheart,” he murmurs, lips pressed against her ear.

She promised herself she wouldn’t beg but asking to be fucked, it’s not begging exactly. Dean’s fingers keep massaging that perfect spot. “Damn it. Just fuck me,” she finally gets out past her own resistance.

She meets Dean’s eyes in the mirror again. He takes in her expression, debating something internally. He moves own hand to her waist, holding her still while the other lines himself up behind her. He slams into her with one hard thrust and Abaddon screams in pleasure this time, nearly coming right then.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” Dean says pumping his hips slowly, waiting for her orgasm to fade away. She whimpers in frustration. “Didn’t ask me to make you come though,” he laughs.

With her hands over her head and feet barely touching the ground, Dean has to hold her still as he thrusts into her. She can barely control the angle of her hips. Dean has all the power and he knows it. He brings her to edge and leaves her there over and over.

“I’m getting close, Abaddon. You don’t ask nicely, you’re just going to have to wait till next time,” Dean warns.

She so desperate she’s almost in tears and she hates him for it. “Fuck, make me come,” Abaddon pants.

Dean’s hips are still working, dragging against that sensitive spot every time. “Not nice enough, sweetheart. You can do better,” Dean scolds.

“Please. Please, let me come,” Abaddon begs.

Dean drives into her harder.

Abaddon’s whole focus narrows to a point, all feelings pulling into her core where Dean is filling her over and over. Finally, something shatters and that exquisite feeling races over her body in wave after wave, pushed on and on with each of Dean’s thrusts.

Vaguely she hears Dean groan and a warm wetness between her legs but she it too out of it to care. Dean lowers her to the ground gentler than the day before. She tries to support herself but her legs are too weak. She crumples on the floor in a heap.

Abaddon is sure she must be hallucinating with what happens next but she it too out of it to care. Dean gets on the ground next to her with a bucket of warm water and a cloth. He wipes away the blood and sweat, even washing her hair. Normally her demon power just take care of regular hygiene but with the cuffs her focus has been on healing the wounds Dean’s given her.

When he’s done, he arranges Abaddon’s arms and legs comfortably and leaves. 

For the next few days the routine is the same. Banter, pain, fucking, clean up. On the fifth day, or maybe the sixth, Abaddon is already starting to lose track, Sam comes in with Dean. Dean is less talkative with Sam around, but he is focused on his design today. It feels more about the pattern and less about the pain. She’s doesn’t even scream that much. When he’s finished, Sam examines Dean’s work.

“It’s beautiful,” Sam murmurs softly.

Dean glows with pride.

Sam catches Abaddon’s eyes. “Would you like to see?”

Abaddon considers her answer carefully. Sam is King of Hell, for now. If she doesn’t please him he could have Dean kill her. But he is watching her closely enough to gauge an overly submissive reaction too. While she is finding parts of her confinement entertaining, there are long stretches of boredom and the pain is more than is strictly enjoyable so she is still hoping to escape and maybe even reverse the rolls.

She bobs her head keeping eye contact. “I’m curious,” she says.

Sam raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. He nods to Dean who fetches the mirror. What she sees makes her gasp.

Dean has carved an intricate floral pattern into her side's and back. Tendrils of ivy curl along the underside of her breasts and creep down her stomach.

“It is beautiful,” she says, unable to hide the wonder in her voice. “I didn’t realize you're an artist.” She blinks and swallows, shifting in her cuffs to try to cover.

Sam watches her closely. “He is.” Sam turns away from Abaddon to run a hand through his brother's hair. “And so talented.”

Dean is lost in Sam’s eyes. They come together for a gentle kiss that Sam deepens. Completely lost in their own world, Abaddon is ignored while Sam rewards Dean for his skill by sucking Dean’s cock, loud and wet.

It’s quite the sight to see, the all powerful king on his knees for his brother, brown hair brushing over Dean’s thighs as his head bobs. Dean’s groans of pleasure are already familiar and Abaddon’s body reacts to them. By the time Dean comes noisily down Sam’s throat, Abaddon is wet and squirming with unfulfilled desire.

Sam rises gracefully and wipes his lips with the tips of his long fingers. “Feeling left out?” he asks.

Abaddon presses her thighs together but doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t worry. Dean’s always been good at sharing his toys.” Sam hits the lever on the wall.

Abaddon is able to support herself and doesn’t slump to the floor this time. Out of nowhere she goes flying face first into the wall, only narrowly managing to not break her nose.

“Handy little trick, isn’t?” Abaddon grunts out. Her breasts and stomach are pressed against the wall, arms over her head. The cuts all over sting.

“Very,” Sam returns casually. He stands behind her and undoes his pants. He presses along her back so that the cuts there sting too, and pushes himself inside her roughly.

Sam is bigger than she expected. He fills her so perfectly, she has to bite her lips on a loud moan.

“You’re so wet, Abaddon. Dean has you trained pretty well already,” Sam says in her ear.

She can’t exactly deny it, so she stops trying to hide the moans.

Sam fucks her hard and fast and it’s not long before she comes.

As her orgasm fades, Sam pulls out and releases her. Her feet hit the ground, Abaddon catches herself on the wall.

“On your knees,” Sam commands.

Abaddon takes a split second to consider resisting. On her knees for the King of Hell somehow seems more degrading than just being fucked by him, but she lowers herself anyway.

Sam’s telekinesis slams her ass against the floor and back to the wall.

“No fast enough,” he grunts. He shoves his cock in her face, still wet with her own juices. “Now open up.”

She doesn’t hesitate this time. Her jaw stretches to accommodate Sam’s cock as he shoves passed her lips. He thrust into her mouth as roughly as he fucked her pussy, making Abaddon gag when he hits the back of her throat.

It's not long before he groans and presses Abaddon harder against the wall. She coughs when she feels him come in her throat, turning her head away. Sam growls and grabs the hair above her forehead. He uses it to tilt her head up and his warm come splashes across her face.

Sam tucks himself away and zips up. He walks over to Dean, waiting patiently. Sam puts an arm around his brother and leads him from the room. Neither look back.

***

Abaddon figured Dean would get tired of her or bored and just kill her. She hoped for a chance to escape or get revenge. She didn’t expect to start liking Dean. It didn’t take her long to realize Dean could make her beg to come when ever he wanted and reward her with such intense orgasms it drained any and all resistance. But it wasn’t just the sex, Dean was clever and funny and intuitive enough to practically read her mind. He could tell when she was plotting or trying to resist more than another time. Everytime he’d break her and damn if she didn’t respect and come to adore him for it.

She also didn’t expect to respect Sam as much as she did. He clearly didn’t trust her. His eyes watched her every move whenever they were in the same room. She knew from the start he only allowed her to live because Dean wanted his revenge. She was a dangerous toy Sam allowed because Dean wanted it. As her affection for Dean grew so did her admiration for Sam. Seeing them together, you couldn’t love one and not the other. Sam didn’t have Dean’s patience when it came to fucking though, but he loved to watch. He’d let Dean take her apart achingly slow. Then he’d fuck Dean right there, next to her, on top of her. However it worked out. Sam was surprised the first time she begged him to fuck her too. She was sore and exhausted after but still remembered to thank them both.

It’s not long after that, they bring her a present. They both come in, more smiles and excitement in the air than usual.

She’s already on her knees when they approach.

“We brought you a present, sweetheart,” Dean holds out a shiny silver collar for her inspection. It’s got the same markings as her cuffs and she can sense the magic imbued in it.

She’s not sure what it means. “It’s beautiful,” she says honestly and looks up to see them smiling down at her. She doesn’t care anymore that she glows with pride at their smiles.

“You’ve been such a good girl, we want to reward you.” Sam strokes her hair.

The collar is hinged in the front so Dean can clasp it around her neck. Sam locks it from behind. For a terrifying moment, Abaddon feels completely human. The double binding of her powers locks away even her demon sight. She panics, mostly at the thought of not healing fast enough.

Dean shushes her, rubbing soothing circles into her shoulder and neck beneath the collar. She relaxes instantly.

Sam unlocks her cuffs. Her powers return to the level they were before. She tests them internally, discovering they are actually stronger now. Sam tucks the cuffs away and Abaddon is almost sad to see them go.

“Come on,” Sam holds a hand out to her. “One more thing to show you.”

She takes it and stands, confused. “What do you mean show me?” The whole time she’s been with them she hasn’t left to dungeon.

Sam winks. “You’ll see.”

“But first,” Dean steps up and offers her a soft pile of white fabric.

She holds it out and realizes it’s a dress. Dean nods at her to put it on and she does. The sides are slit up passed her hips and the neckline plunges halfway to her belly button. The fabric is so sheer she can see the shadowy hint of her nipples and pubic hair.

She’s not sure what to say, so she just raises an eyebrow.

Dean laughs. “You look hot, okay? Come on.”

Abaddon shrugs.

They lead her out through some twisting hallways to what is unmistakably the throne room. She expects to feel some jealousy or anger that it’s not hers but it doesn’t come. Instead, it’s happiness and pride as they show her what they’ve done.

Sam’s throne sits on platform raised two steps at the back of the room. It’s large but not so ornate. Dean has his own throne to the right, smaller and a step down. On the left of the throne on the ground floor is a large over stuffed pillow, covered in blood red velvet.

“We think you’ve earned this now,” Sam says.

“Go on. Sit,” Dean adds when she just stares between them.

She does. The material is soft against her skin and she kneels. She can imagine it sliding against her back as Dean fucks her, and shivers.

“Do you like it?” Dean asks. Sam looks at him when he says it and Deans looks away rubbing his neck.

“It’s wonderful, thank you.” Abaddon runs her finger over the smooth red surface and looks up through her lashes. “Are you going to fuck me on it?” she asks.

Dean groans and with a nod from Sam is soon buried inside her.

Abaddon is slowly given more freedom. The court attendants bring her things to keep her entertained. The worst part of her imprisonment had been the boredom between visits and she couldn’t help but be grateful for the simple pleasure of reclining, clothed, reading a lore book.

She is also allowed to witness court proceedings. The reporting demons give her sideways looks varying from lust to confusion and an unnerving pensiveness. Sam is sure to explain in explicit detail that she belongs to Dean and no one is to touch or speak to her without permission.

It crosses her mind to try to betray the King and his consort but there is no true desire for it anymore. The longer she spends under Sam’s rule the more she sees he truly is a good king. She’s even been able to give him advice and information on some of the troublesome or older demons he didn’t know about.

It’s easy to fall into a new routine. Morning is court, afternoons she’s left alone while the king and his consort take care of their own business, evening she is taken either to the old torture chamber or their bedroom depending on how wound up Dean is. She can’t decide which room she likes better. Some nights though, they’ll even let her sleep at the foot of their bed, waking her with soothing strokes in the morning to fuck and fill her again.

Some time after her move to court, a demon approaches her. Sam and Dean turned to leave and the demon hurries over quietly and kneels beside her couch.

“My queen, there are those of us still loyal,” he whispers. “We are working to get you out. Please stay strong.”

It takes a moment for her to realize he’s speaking to her and another to process what he’s saying. When she does, her rage sends the demon flying across the room.

She rises gracefully and steps off her cushion. Her legs shake from fighting passed the restricting power of the collar but she doesn’t let it show.

“Strong enough for you?” she calls.

She approaches the demon crumpled in a heap against the far wall. “The only ruler here is Sam.” She’s too weak to use her powers again so she kicks, her bare foot connecting with the demons stomach, curling him into a fetal position. “Be. Loyal. To. Your. King!” She emphasizes each word with another kick.

A firm hand on the back of her neck and softly whispered “enough” calls her back to herself. She left her cushion and spoke to the demon without permission not to mention using her powers. She falls to her knees prepared to beg for forgiveness as soon as she is given the opportunity.

“Lock him up. I’ll deal with him in a minute.” The venom in Sam’s voice makes the other demons present cringe and Abaddon’s blood heat.

“Come on, sweetheart. We need to talk.” Dean’s gentle tone confuses Abaddon. He helps her to her feet and Sam leads them to the bedroom.

“Alright, what happened?” Dean asks as soon as the door closed.

Abaddon is already on her knees. “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry I didn’t follow orders. It’ll never happen again. Please, please let me make it up to you.” She crawls forward reaching for the zipper of his pants.

Dean catches her hands. “Talk first. What did he say to you?”

Abaddon sneaks a look at Sam before locking eyes with Dean. “He said there were demons loyal to me trying to free me. He called me his queen.” She hangs her head.

Sam tilts her chin up. “How did you use your powers?”

Abaddon shakes her head. “I don’t know,” she says earnestly. “I was furious and just, reacted. It made me weak.”

“Weak? Baby girl, you were amazing.” Dean beamed but Sam was still thoughtful.

“Can you use them now?” Sam asks.

Abaddon tries to move the bed, or even a pillow. Nothing happens and she shakes her head again.

Sam nods and finally smiles. He takes one of her hands and helps her to her feet. He kisses her cheek. “You were perfect. You deserve a reward. Ask for anything.”

They already give her anything she might want. She blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “Let me handle him?” It feels like too much as soon as it’s out of her mouth.

Sam and Dean exchange a glance.

“Are you sure you’re up to that? And you won’t give us any trouble after?” Dean voice is stern.

Abaddon shakes her head fervently and barely lets herself hope.

“We’ll be there the whole time,” Sam warns.

“Of course.” She bites her lip and stares at her bare toes. “I want you to be.”

Both men put an arm around her and escort her out of the room.

The demons in the hallway eye them on the way to the dungeon. Before they enter, they stop in front of the door.

“Kneel down,” Dean commands.

Abaddon obeys but pulls her brows together in confusion.

Dean strokes her hair. “We want you at your best for this,” Dean murmurs, even bending to drop a kiss on the top of her bowed head.

Sam finds the lock on her collar and undoes it. She gasps at the power flooding through her. She had almost forgotten what it was like.

Sam’s finger still rests on her neck. “We think you have earned the trust. But any hint of betrayal,” He twists his hand painfully into her hair and tilts her head back. “I’ll be dealing with you this time.” Sam eyes are cold and blank. With everything Dean has done to her, she knows she would rather be dead than deal with Sam.

She blinks, unable to nod. Sam’s face softens. He releases her and helps her up.

Dean turns the door handle. “We’ll just sit back and watch. Let us know if you need anything.”

Abaddon nods and stands up straight, smoothing the sheer fabric of her dress. For the first time in a long time, she misses red lipstick. Dean pushes the door open and lets her enter first.

The demon cringes into the corner of his cell when the three of them enter. Abaddon has only ever seen her cell before now, this room is smaller than her’s. A single corner of the room holds holy water, knives, and other assorted torture instruments. Chains hang from the walls.

Abaddon waves her hand and the demon slams against the wall and hangs there. The rush of power makes her giddy, an evil smile crosses her face.

“Please, I didn’t- I was only- it was for you, my queen!”

“Your king is present. Show some respect!” She sends a knife flying from the collection through his shoulder into the stone behind him. His scream is pathetic for the relatively basic wound. Abaddon knows it won’t be long before he’s squealing like a pig.

She calls another knife to her hand and approaches the demon. “Now, make this easy on yourself. Tell me who the others are and what they were planning.”

“I can’t, please I-”

Abaddon stabs him in the stomach, reveling in his screams. It has been too long, the coppery smell of blood fills her senses. “You can. And you will.”

“Please, please!” the demon begs.

She leaves the knife where it is and steps away. “You’re pathetic. Talk!”

The demon cries. “You don’t understand-”

She drags the knife across. The demon screams and whimpers. “Dean, do you remember the conversation from our second night?” She looks at him over her shoulder, a little nostalgic.

Dean grins from where he’s leaning against the wall next to Sam. “Go for it,” he says, eyes heated as he watches her.

Abaddon pulls out the knife and slams it into the demon's other shoulder. She wiggles her fingers in front of the demon then lowers it. She reaches through the knife wound till her whole hand is in the demon's body cavity. The demon is screaming but she is focused on finding something in particular. She finally finds and rips out an organ to show the demon, her hand dripping in blood.

“Have you seen your own spleen before?” she asks almost sweetly.

“Okay, okay, please, please.” The demon looks away babbling.

Abaddon grabs his face turning him back to look at her. “Tell me who you were working with.”

“The princes. They don’t want a human ruling Hell.” Abaddon growls dangerously and the demon cringes. “Please, please, you have to kill me.”

Abaddon back hands him casually. “I’m going to need more than that before I let you go.”

The demon starts listing everything he knows. Abaddon files it away to deal with later. “You were too easy,” she says with disgust and turns away. The demon sags only held up by the knives in his shoulders now.

“You don’t want the killing blow?” Sam asks.

“We should talk before you kill him, my king. The princes are dangerous and you may have more questions” Sam nods and they return to their bedroom. Abaddon explains who the princes of Hell are, they’re eyes widening at the mention of Azazel.

Once business is discussed, Dean approaches her holding her collar. She kneels, before he can even ask. Sam locks it and she feels weak, weaker than she remembered. Part of her likes being helpless against the two men and part of her laments not being stronger to protect Sam’s throne.

Dean pulls her in for a fierce kiss. “You’ve been so amazing today,” he whispers.

Sam presses up behind her and mouths at her neck. “We’re gonna reward you.”

They run their hands over her body, heedless of the spatter and blood drying sticky on her hand.

It was never quite like this. It was usually about their pleasure, hers only a side effect. Tonight is all about her. Dean kisses and licks and sucks over her neck and chest, down her belly till he is kneeling in front of her. It is such a reversal it makes Abaddon nervous until Dean’s tongue between her legs pushes all thought from her head.

Dean pauses long enough for Sam to guide her to the bed and lay her on her back. Dean settles between her thighs again, lapping at her damp folds. She arches off the bed, her hands flying to his hair. Sam sits above her leaning over to kiss her upside down, his tongue plunging ruthlessly into her mouth and swallowing the moans Dean is pulling from her. Sam’s calloused hands skim over the smooth skin of her arms and breasts raising goose bumps. Between the two of them, it’s not long before she’s thrown over the edge, one hand buried in Dean’s hair holding him close, the other gripping the back of Sam’s neck. When she finally lets them go they both sit back. Abaddon only barely registers the look that passes between them.

Dean stands and goes to a dresser on the other side of the room. Abaddon tries to watch him but Sam demands her attention.

Sam shifts back till he’s laying on his back along the middle of the bed, pillows propped behind his head. He shuffles out of his pants quickly, his cock laying full and hard to his hip.

“C’mere,” he beckons.

Abaddon goes without question. She straddles him and guides his cock inside her as she sinks down with a moan.

Sam grabs her hips and circles his own, making her just feel him. Her eyes slide closed.

“You were so good today,” he whispers. “Never thought I’d be able to trust you, but today” Sam bucks his hips up into her, making her fall forward slightly hands splaying across his chest. “You were so amazing.”

Abaddon feels the bed shift as Dean climbs up behind her. She looks over her shoulder and sees a small blade in his hand. Excitement and confusion fill her at once. Rewards don’t usually involve pain, though she’s not opposed to it.

Dean slides up behind her and hands Sam the blade. Once his hands are free he pulls himself closer, the hot line of his cock pressing between her ass and his hands gripping her hips. He pushes down making her grind herself onto Sam’s cock.

Sam sits up and Abaddon is utterly trapped between the two men. Sam snakes his left arm around her neck to pull back the hair and raises his right with the blade in hand.

“I’ve been saving this for when I could trust you. I hope appreciate how much of a privilege this is,” Sam murmurs. He places the blade along the side of her neck and makes a quick short slice, trying not to avoid pain.

Abaddon gasps anyway and rocks her hips.

Sam meets her eyes and holds them as long as he can as he lowers his lips to the wound on her neck. She doesn’t believe it’s happening until he seals his lips and sucks.

“Yes. Yes, thank you, my king. Please.” She babbles her gratitude until Dean soothes her.

“You earned it, baby girl,” he says and laughs lightly, happily. “Now I have someone to share this burden with.”

***

Sometime later, after settling the issues with the princes, and life in Hell has become almost boring. Dean and Abaddon plot a surprise present for Sam. They debate on where to present him with his gift and settle on the same dungeon Abaddon started in. Once everything is set up and decorated, they request his presence. Of course he grants it for his two favorite demons.

Sam steps into the room, laughing at their excitement but freezes when he sees who is hanging from the chains.

Abaddon fights the urge to kneel as his face darkens and Dean rubs the back of his neck, both unsure this was as good an idea as they thought at first. No going back now.

“Ruby,” Sam finally says.

She smirks around the gag.

Sam turns on his lovers. “How?” His face is still impossibly blank and dark.

“The knife,” Dean says immediately. “We found out that it traps the souls, essence, whatever, of the demons it kills. So we extracted hers. It was another set of magic to get that body back. You prefered the brunette right?” Dean sounds almost hopeful by the end.

Sam turns back to Ruby. He steps further into the dungeon and notices the knife sitting on a table. He picks it up testing the weight and feel.

Ruby mumbles something around her gag but they all ignore her.

Sam looks at Dean. “I only ever aim to kill. Painfully maybe, but death it always the eventual outcome. You’ll have to show me.” He turns to Abaddon. “Both of you.”

Dean smiles, his eyes flicking black in excitement.

“With pleasure, my king,” Abaddon says.


End file.
